


God, It Must Be Torture

by allons_y_alyssa



Category: Achievement Hunter, Fake AH crew - Fandom, GTA - Fandom, GTA-AU - Fandom, GTA-verse - Fandom, Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/ Achievement Hunter RPF, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Comedy, Fake AH Crew, GTA!AU, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allons_y_alyssa/pseuds/allons_y_alyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working for Lester is not all it's cracked up to be. The work is dangerous, explosive, and deadly, and he never has to lift a finger. When the job is done he'll either thank you for a job well done and you'll get the money, or he'll be angry, and short you on your pay. But always remember rule number one: never go back on your deal with Lester. He'll send someone after you to capture you, or worse, kill you. It's been a couple of months since The Fake AH Crew has double crossed Lester by not delivering his goods, and now he's out for blood. Can the FAHC endure the torture that he inflicts on them by a rival gang, and will they make it out alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Before they even accepted Lester’s mission, Geoff promised his crew that this was going to be a quickie. In and out in a snap, pop a cap in a few heads, take the money, get the drugs, and then get the hell out of dodge. He made a solid promise, and he always keeps his promises, no matter what.

The FAHC didn’t want too much trouble. They’d already lost one of their main six to a mission gone wrong, leaving them with five crewmembers remaining. All they wanted was something simple, something that would ease their distress of losing him.

“We’ll be in and out of there in a jiffy,” Geoff said as he donned his ski mask before the crew entered the abandoned warehouse.

“You could say we’ll be out in a Geoffy,” Michael said under his breath, his gray hockey mask hiding his smirk.

“Hey Michael?” his boss asked him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

It was supposed to be stealthy; no one would know that they were there if they did their job effectively.

But then, as they approached the building, Ryan stopped. The crew turned around to face him in confusion.

“Ryan, what are you-?” Jack asked from under her Bill Clinton mask.

Ryan shushed her by holding up his hand. He pointed his assault rifle toward an open window on the topmost floor and opened fire. And almost immediately, a body came tumbling out, hitting the ground with a solid thud and sickening crack.

And that’s when it all went to shit.

No one expected their rivals to be there. No one expected to be taken down so quickly. First, Gavin, next Michael, Geoff, Jack, and then, of course, Ryan. They were captured, not killed, which they all thought was very odd, but didn’t question it.

Now they were on their knees, bound individually with their hands locked in zip ties behind their backs, and their mouths gagged with oily rags. Their captors were staring at them arrogantly, the lower half of their faces covered in black bandanas with an evil smirk printed on them. It was a first for both teams; being captured and capturing the Fake AH Crew.

What a glorious day!

“What’s up, fuck ups? Remember us?” one member asked.

Yes, they did. They were the Los Santos Satans. There were seven of them altogether. Originally there were thirty-three of them, but then they encountered Ryan. Ryan, Jack, and Michael began picking them off one by one as the team advanced, and by the time Gavin went down, there were only fifteen Satans left.

“This, boys, is the best day in existence,” the supposed leader of the rivals began, walking forward with his hands dangling at his sides, and mouth covered with a red bandana. “The Fake AH Crew, in our midst. How stupid they must feel for falling for Lester’s ‘mission’. Honestly, Boss Man,” he said addressing a beaten and glaring Geoff, “I don’t know how you didn’t see this coming after you and your ragtag team of shitheads humiliated Lester months ago. You disrespected the man, you took his money, and so, he wanted revenge. Enter us! I gotta admit, I am impressed, though. You guys took out twenty-six of us, with only five of you. Yet, you got caught. What was wrong?” He focused his attention on Gavin who was kneeling next to Geoff with a scared twitch in his eye. “Were you distracted? Down a man? Hmm?”

The leader stood up straight, laughing at the sudden fire in Gavin’s eyes, and moved on to give Jack a pat on her red head affectionately. “Now, here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to go down the line of you losers for information. One of you will fess up and tell me what I need to know, where you stash your money, and I’m gonna get it one way or another,” he walked past a disgruntled Michael and stopped in front of Ryan, who was watching this so called leader with arrogant eyes.

He pulled down the bandana that covered his mouth in an attempt at intimidation. “What are you looking at, jackass?” he taunted Ryan.

Ryan shrugged. “Nothing, fuckboy. I sure as hell ain’t looking at your ugly ass face, no wonder you wear a bandana,” he mumbled incoherently through his gag.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, not understanding the insult thrown at him.

“Come on, Greg,” one of his cohorts said.

“Yeah, let’s get to poking,” another chipped in.

“They killed Lenny, Greg,” the man closest to Geoff complained. “They gotta pay for doing Lenny in like they did.”

“I got a new pair of clippers to use on their fingers.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Jess, you’re always hungry.”

“I wanna stick em with my new knife.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he silenced them with a look of death. He turned back to the FAHC and smirked. “Let’s play.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Los Santos Satans are in for a big surprise when they begin torturing the most dangerous asset to the Fake AH Crew. How much of this guy can they take before they crack themselves?

“Ah, goddammit, is that really all you got?” the Vagabond asked, gritting his teeth against the pain. “A little knife in my hand? Come on, you guys are supposed to be scary!”

Ryan, unlike most of his crewmembers, could handle the pain; it didn’t bother him, he was just doing dramatics for show. Being bound to a chair and tortured for information wasn’t new for him. He was used to it. However, he usually was the interrogator, not the interrogated, but he knew how this game went and he was going to beat it.

“What the fuck is this guy’s deal, Greg?” one Satan asked, scratching the side of his face.

“Yeah, Greg,” Ryan whined, leaning forward against the plastic zip ties that anchored his hands to the armrests, his hair falling into his eyes, “what’s my deal? What’s your deal? Don’t have better tools to get me with? You guys are the best in Los Santos. Oh wait, no, that’s us!” He nodded over to his crew, all bound and gagged and kneeling in front of him, watching him being poked.

Greg glanced at the Fake AH Crew on the ground sneering, then turned back to Ryan. He squatted down to eye level with the Vagabond.

“Where’s the money?” he asked.

“Where’s the money?” Ryan repeated back.

“Stop it.”

“Stop it.”

“Just tell me where it is.”

“Just tell me where it is.”

“Alright, now you’re just being childish.”

“Alright, now you’re just being childish.”

“I’ll kill you, motherfucker!” Greg almost screamed.

“I’ll kill you, motherfucker.” Ryan said calmly, eyeing up the Los Santos Satan like he was prey, and in Ryan’s mind, he was. Even if he was tied up, Ryan was going to get out eventually, and when he did, Greg was a dead man.

They stared at each other for a while, testing each other’s limits with just testosterone and stamina. Finally, Greg straightened up and looked to his crew, four of them standing around the torture subject with eager eyes.

“Get the car battery and the jumper cables,” he commanded to his cohorts. “You are gonna squeal like a piggy,” he told Ryan.

Ryan laughed until tears were streaming down his face, leaving streaks in his face paint that he wore under his skull mask on heists. “Oh, you’re gonna electrocute me? I thought we were having a moment there Greg! The way you said sweet nothings to me and gazed into my eyes, oh, I melted instantly.”

“Shut this asshole up,” Greg commanded, and then another cohort quickly shoved a rag in the legendary Vagabond’s mouth, silencing him for a moment.

Greg knew that the first torture wouldn’t solicit an immediate response. He wasn’t stupid. And of course, Ryan wasn’t the type of guy to give up easily. He was, as one cohort named Reggie put it, ‘one creepy looking motherfucker.’ He was a man of steel when it came to pain, but he couldn’t resist acting so hurt. He was bored, and wanted to put that Drama degree he earned in college to good use.

As the Satans brought out the car battery, the FAHC watched Ryan’s arrogant eyes suddenly flash with worry. What was he playing at? Was he really scared of this new torture device? He had used worse before on others, but he hadn’t been the one receiving it. Or did he know that the battery wasn’t only going to be used on him, but on everyone else?

“You ready for this, fuckwad?” Greg snapped, removing the rag from Ryan’s mouth and pulling on a cord with the wires exposed, already sending off blue sparks.

Ryan smiled; his worrisome look gone without a trace. “Let’s go, pussy squad!”

But Greg had other ideas. He leaned in to lay the wires on Ryan’s neck, and then pulled away.

“Eh, let’s not waste this on, what’s your name? ‘The Vagabond?’ Suckish name, bro,” Greg said, putting the wires down on the table.

His crew was shocked. “Really? Are you sure? He’s the one who did Lenny in! He’s gotta pay!”

“And he will,” Greg countered. “But not in physical pain.”

He cut Ryan free from his bounds and two Satans roughly grabbed him, guiding him back to his spot in the line of captured crewmembers. Greg followed them and squatted in front of the struggling man as he was being restricted once again on his knees.

“If you’re not gonna talk when I torture you with knives, maybe you’ll talk when I torture you with your crew,” he said menacingly.

“Highly unlikely,” Ryan managed to mutter before his oily rag was shoved into his mouth again.

Greg smirked and addressed his next victim. “I think this one will be a tough one to crack. Get him in the chair, and let’s fry this fucker.”

 

  



	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After giving up on the Vagabond, Greg and his crew move on to question the legendary Master of Rage. What kind of show will Mogar put on for the Satans this time?

“Listen to me, motherfucker, if you touch my crew, I swear to fucking Jesus Christ himself, I’ll come after you in the dead of night with nothing but a Swiss army knife, a lemon, and floss. The cops won’t be able to ID your body when they find it the next morning hanging by your toes on the top of the Los Santos City Bank. Pffft, you think you can scare me with your piece of shit car battery? Way to go on making a crappy substitute for an actual electric chair. If you wanted to scare me, you’d threaten me properly, and not with electrocution. I’m invincible, assholes!”

Michael’s taunting tactics had thrown the Los Santos Satans for a loop. They’d expected him to break easily; after all, he had looked a little less threatening when they chose him for interrogation after Ryan.

But…it was like the pain fueled him some how. His insults came in waves after each shock from the battery. Even switching over to flay him with knives didn’t stop him. It had started off with small insults like “bitch” and “douche canoe” but then they started getting personal.

“Ow! Okay fuckers that one hurt,” he yelled after being stabbed in the thigh with a hunting knife. “Job well done assholes for sticking me with a sissy knife. Did your mommy get that for you? She’s a stupid bitch.  She should have gotten you a butter knife.”

“Hey asswipe, don’t say that about my mom!” A Satan shouted, lunging across the torture table for a pair of industrial-sized clippers.

“Jess, Jess,” Reggie cried, grabbing the man’s arm before he could touch the tool. “He’s yanking your chain, bro!”

“He called my mom stupid, man! And she got me that knife for my birthday, it means a lot to me.”

“I know, I know, but you can’t let him get to you, all right?”

Jess nodded and glared past Reggie at Michael’s smirk. He leaned around his friend with a twitch in his eye.

“Watch yourself, buddy,” he warned, “or else one of them skinny sausages is coming off,” he pointed at Michael’s fingers in disgust, and walked away.

Michael bit his lip to hold in his laughter. His eyes were watering as he struggled to keep his composure, but as soon as he made eye contact with Gavin, who was visibly shaking with inaudible chuckles, the floodgate of giggles was released. His infectious laugh was causing a wave of silent laughter amongst his crew and also an awkward tension in the Satans watching his torture session go wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be laughing. He was supposed to be screaming, crying, begging, and giving up information. How had this gotten so off track?

Greg, on the edge of losing his patience, aimed a hard punch into Michael’s jaw, cutting him off mid-laugh, and bringing his attention back to the seriousness of the situation. He grabbed Michael by the jaw, and forced him to look into his desperate and wrathful eyes.

“Okay Mogar, you cocky piece of shit,” he growled in a low voice, “I’m going to get what I want either from you or one of your dumbass friends, one way or another. Fess up, where’s Lester’s goddamn money? Are you gonna answer or am I gonna need to have a chat with your team and a pair of hedge trimmers?”

Michael shook free of Greg’s grasp, his playful attitude gone in the blink of an eye. He was evaluating Greg and his pitiful attempt at being intimidating. If he wanted to be intimidating, he should have taken lessons from Ryan. Mogar had lived with the Vagabond for six months before he and Lindsay “Red” got together and bought an apartment. He would never forget the time he had woken up in the middle of the night to see Ryan, in a straight jacket, sleeping upside down like a bat in the living room with a whole tub of scorpions and snakes lying only inches underneath him. The worst part was, Ryan slept with his eyes open, making it look like he was dead. Michael didn’t get out of bed in the middle of the night after that. And needless to say, nothing scared him anymore.

  The FAHC knew that Michael wouldn’t confess, but there was always that little speck of doubt in the back of their minds. What if he did tell? What would happen to them? Would Michael get away? Would they all die? There was no way to know.

Michael finally answered his interrogator. “If you touch them, you will die.”

Greg shook his head as he received the arrogant pledge of loyalty. He stood up straight and gestured for his cohorts to remove Michael from the chair. He followed them as they shoved him down onto his knees next to his team and bound him. Greg moved onto the next FAHC member, standing in front of them with his hands behind his back. Then he smirked as his next target glanced up at his towering figure.

“Surprise, motherfucker, guess who’s next…”


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Satans' patience wears thin, so does that of the FAHC. How will Jack's interrogation affect the future of her crew?

Tied up, tight-lipped, and above all unfazed, Jack “Mama Bear” Pattillo said nothing. Her eyes stared straight ahead at the faded back wall of the warehouse, glazed over, not taking any notice of the sparking jumper cable wires being pressed against her arms.

The pain was intense, like swallowing a thousand killer bees and being bitten by twenty venomous snakes all at once, while also having millions of tiny spiders crawl over your skin, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She was trained to do this.

If anyone had thought Greg was pissed, they wouldn’t be shocked to know he was absolutely livid. What the hell was this crew made out of? Is their only weakness kryptonite or some shit? He could literally see the electricity flowing through her body, and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She was clearly in pain, why wasn’t she screaming?

Masking his irritation, he put on his soothing voice to coerce the information out of the silent redhead.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb, “I wanna hear you tell me all your secrets, all of them – even the dirty ones. If you won’t tell, then I wanna hear you scream to the Heaven that you fell from.”

Jack let out a huff like she was laughing, but kept her silence. She shook free of his grasp and caught a glimpse of her bound crew, all worried and apprehensive of how she was taking the pain. Her eyes found Ryan’s, and received a nod from him as a form of encouragement. He had trained her to keep her head about her, even when she felt like she was losing it. She was strong on her own, but a little training now and then never hurt anyone.

Sneering, Greg motioned for Jess to let up on the electric shock, and then faced Reggie, who took the sudden attention as a sign to grab the tools. Though she felt immensely relieved, Jack didn’t show it. She couldn’t show weakness now.

Reggie returned with a black pack that was rolled up and tied together. Greg took the pack from him, and unwound it to reveal several knives that were tucked into slots and arranged by size. He smiled as he chose a knife whose blade was curved and polished to give off a unique sheen.

All the while, Jack made no visible movements. She made her eyes dart over the faces of her teammates. She could see that they were all uncomfortable, cringing at her appearance even though the Satans hadn’t even touched her with a knife. She knew how they felt – when Michael was taking a hit, she couldn’t even look at him. He was part of her family; they wall were, and it physically pained her to see them all suffer.

Despite being a major dumbass, Greg managed to get one thing right. The one way that the FAHC was going to fess up was to make them all watch each other get tortured. And as far as he was concerned, it hadn’t worked. However, Jack could see that it had taken its toll on her crew, and knew one of the last two members would crack.

Greg knelt down in front of Jack, obscuring her view of her crew, and gazed at her in amazement. It was remarkable that she had kept her silence for this long. He hadn’t encountered anyone like that in all his years of torturing.

“All right, darling,” he whispered. “I hope you had time to think about your answer. Now I’m going to ask you one more time.” He held up his knife and ran the tip lightly down her collarbone, causing an involuntary shiver to erupt down her body.

“Where’s Lester’s goddamned money?”

Jack swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, and attempted to look behind her tormentor to seek advice from Ryan. For a fleeting second, she caught sight of him, and again got a single nod for encouragement.

Then, she leaned forward, focusing in on the slimy man in front of her, determination in her eyes and sass in her smile. The tip of the knife began digging into her skin, almost drawing blood, as she got closer to Greg to whisper two simple words to him.

“Fuck. Off.”

Greg sucked in a breath, fire in his eyes and an unsettling feeling boiling in his stomach, and dragged the knife down the length of her collar, leaving a fresh trail of blood in its wake.  Jack shifted under this new pain in her chest and almost winced. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to take her mind off of the searing cut that was burning like melted gold being poured on her.

Suddenly the knife left her neck, a satisfying sensation, which was quickly followed by a smack across her face. The force behind the action was so intense that it nearly made the chair tip over. Jack let out a low level gasp, and opened her eyes in shock.

Jack could see her crew twisting and turning every which way to move and free themselves. They were struggling to get up and go to her. They were muffling obscenities toward the Satans, and Jack knew that they were on the edge of losing all self-control that they had left.

“You stupid bitch,” Greg growled. “Get her out of the chair.” As his crew cut her zip ties from her wrists and hoisted her to her feet, Greg briskly walked over to the second to last victim of the FAHC.

“Lookie who’s next,” he cackled, “little squirrely man. Vav, right?” He grabbed a handful of Gavin’s hair and pulled, making the bruised Brit look at him.

“I’ll bet you’ll break in five minutes,” he taunted. “This one next,” he told two of his men who were finishing up binding Jack. “Maybe we won’t have to interrogate Boss Man. We could just kill him when we’re done here.”

That final statement was met with angry incoherency from both Gavin and Michael. No way he was gonna off Geoff. They wouldn’t let him.

Before the two men made a grab for Gavin, Geoff, using what little was left of his energy, sprung forward between the head Satan and the crew’s most valuable member. He fell face first into the ground, grunting from his rag as he did so. Upon hitting the ground, he was able to loosen his gag and spit it from his mouth.

“No, no,” Geoff said breathlessly. “Take me. “Take me, please. I’m begging you.”


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future of the FAHC now lies in the hands of their leader. Geoff's not exactly the strongest member of the crew, but will his love for them all make up for the lack of stamina?

When he said his plea, every head in the room turned to stare in bewilderment at the man on the verge of tears lying face down in the ground. Catching glances from his team, Greg rolled his eyes and released Gavin, reaching down for Boss Man instead.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Greg whispered. “You’re making a sorry attempt at saving the weakest link on your team, and you know it. What are you afraid he’ll say if he breaks?”

Geoff shook his head at every word Greg said. He wasn’t afraid that Gavin would say anything. He knew, that of all people, Vav was the person you could trust with secrets. Gavin would not break.

As for breaking under torture, it would be Geoff that would crack first. He wouldn’t be enduring physical pain, no, he’d be enduring secondary emotional pain. It was the kind of pain that one feels when the people they love the most are being hurt and they can’t do anything about it. Geoff saw them all struggle even though they didn’t show it. Jack’s involuntary flinch when the knife was placed against her skin scared Geoff so much that he nearly pissed his pants. Michael’s insults were just a show of bravado; Geoff was so used to the composed and dangerous man that he had come to know on heists that for a while he forgot that Michael was just a boy. As for Ryan: he was just as broken as the rest of them, probably even more so.

He felt awful for falling for Lester’s mission. How did he not see this coming? He was going to be solely responsible for their deaths now as well as Ray’s.

God, Ray’s death; Geoff sent him out there when he thought everything was clear. He didn’t know. How could he? He didn’t see that gunman behind the pile of pipes. He didn’t see the quick movement of the pull back on the gun, he didn’t see the gunman run away, but he did see Ray hit the ground with a bullet lodged between his eyes. Geoff held Ray in his arms as he took his last breath, and he vowed that he would never let anything happen to his crew. He promised him...he promised...

If Geoff couldn’t save Ray, then he would save his crew with every ounce of energy he had left.

“Please,” Geoff pled again, this time with more gusto. “Take me.”

The lead Satan glanced at Gavin, who’s eyes were becoming mistier with every passing second. Geoff was willing to take his place, and Gavin was touched. After all the insults and attacks on him from his teammates, he always knew Boss Man had his back.

Finally deciding on a victim, Greg hoisted Geoff to his feet and shoved him toward the chair, his crew catching Boss Man to prepare him for his session.

Greg turned to the FAHC arrogantly. “Hopefully Mr. Boss Man will spill the beans for your sakes. I’d hate to waste your talents,” he remarked, giving a side glance to Ryan, “and your stone cold attitudes,” he addressed to Jack and Michael.

“If he gives me what I want, you’ll live. But the big bad Boss Man here, won’t live to see a happy ending. And who knows, I might choose one of you to go out with him.”

“Hey, dickhead,” Geoff yelled. “I’m here in your chair. I’m tied up and ready to fight you, motherfucker. Talk to me and not them. They won’t give you shit.”

“Oh I’ll get to you soon enough, but let’s make things more interesting,” Greg began. He walked over to Vav, and yanked the oily rag out of his mouth.

“Bastard!” Gavin screamed. “I’m the one you want, not Geoff! Take me! I’ll tell you everything!”

Greg moved onto Jack and relieved her of her gag. Keeping with her silence, she said nothing, although she wanted to desperately. He then went to Michael and pulled on the rag.

“Gavin!” he shouted over the incoherent babbling from his fellow Nice Dynamite member. “Shut the fuck up man! Don’t tell them shit! Geoff, this is nuts! Let me take your place.”

“And have to watch you get tortured all over again?” Geoff retorted. “Not a chance. As if it wasn’t nuts enough being tied up and being forced to deal with you and Ryan and Jack just get fucking wrecked. This is the best option.”

“Best option for who?” Ryan countered after being able to speak once again. “Geoff, this is one dumbass choice that you can’t take back.”

“Enough!” Greg hollered. He turned his back on the reluctantly silent yet anxious crew and went to their leader. He towered over Boss Man, his back straight and his hands clasped behind his back as he smiled the Devil’s smile.

“This’ll be _so much fun_.”


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff's starting to crack under pressure, but he's not the only one.

“Where’s the money?” Greg screamed, shoving the sparking wires onto Boss Man’s neck.

Geoff belted bloody murder to the heavens. His hands clutched desperately at the arm rests of the rickety chair, pulling at them to hopefully achieve the sweet release of freedom. He threw his head back and contorted his face in agony every time Greg shocked him with the cables. And each time he would let out one piercing scream after another. He was so close to breaking under the torture. He couldn’t take it anymore.

And his crew wasn’t doing any better. Geoff’s cries made them howl insults, and his commands for them to keep their mouths shut were answered with their not-a-chance-in-hell remarks.

“Ahh,” Geoff weakly sighed as the cables were taken from his skin. He hung his head in a defeated manner as he attempted to collect himself. All the while, his crew was begging for the Satans to stop harming Geoff and use one of them instead.

Geoff lifted his head slightly to glance at the people around the room. He saw Greg don a pair of heavy-duty rubber gloves and examine a couple of knives to use on him. His cohorts were shoving each other playfully while also eyeing him up in anticipation.

“We know you know where the money is Boss Man,” Reggie taunted as he sneered in Geoff’s face. “Tell us what you did with it and we’ll let you go.”

“Yeah, to hell,” Jess chimed in.

Then as they moved away, Geoff was able to look at his team. They were all talking over each other in a kerfuffle of sounds. Gavin was still hollering insults every way he could while Michael yelled both at the Satans guarding them and at Gavin to shut up. Jack had thrown away her silence and was now swearing like a sailor at anyone who looked at her the wrong way. Ryan instead took up Jack’s abandoned silence, and at first glance looked as if he was meditating with this eyes closed and his chest heaving at a steady rate.

“Ready for round two?” Greg asked as he wielded a large machete in his hand, redirecting Geoff’s attention.

Geoff whimpered. “No,” he squeaked as the weapon seemed to gleam with doom.

“Stop, stop!” Gavin screamed as he struggled against his restraints. “I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything! It was me you wanted before now take me!”

“Gavin, shut the fuck up!” Michael retorted at the Brit.

“I swear if you touch Geoff one more time I’ll-“ Jack warned.

“You’ll what?” a nameless Satan jeered. He raised a baseball bat up to Jack’s eye level and aimed a good blow to her left eye. “You can’t do shit, lady.”

Mama Bear slowly shifted her head side to side as she cracked her neck. Blood began to ooze out of the newly formed gash in her eyebrow and into her eye. She then spit a large wad of saliva up at the Satan, hitting him dead in the nose.

“Oh honey,” she said with a devious smile on her face, “I can do wonders while I’m tied up.”

“Quiet!” Greg commanded to the FAHC. Once they were silent, he turned back to Geoff and grinned. “You better fess up Boss Man before you lose a finger, or a toe, or your head…”

“Don’t do it!” Michael insisted.

“I said shut up, you nuisance,” Greg reiterated.

Geoff laughed. “You’ll have to kill me for it.” He had built up his confidence for that one little show of bravery, now he could feel his heart sink as Greg brought the weapon closer and closer to him.

“Oh I will,” Greg admitted, leaning down to yank off Geoff’s left shoe, revealing his gamy little toes. “And I’ll start with this little piggy.”

“Wait, I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything, I swear!” a voice rang out from behind Greg.

The room seemed to move in slow motion to Geoff as Greg got up and moved out of his view so he could gawk at the person that the plea had come from. He saw the heads of his teammates turn to the source of the sound and their eyes widen in surprise.

Ryan had his head held high and his jaw firmly clenched as Greg advanced forward.

“No way,” Greg said in disbelief. “No fucking way _you_ said that.”

“Ryan?” Geoff asked as the blood drained from his face. _That’s why he wasn’t looking at me or pleading for this asshole to beat on him instead of me,_ he thought.

“I’m serious,” the Vagabond promised. “I know every single detail about where we hid the money, and I’ll tell them to you if you let me go.”

Greg huffed. “You pulling my leg Vagabond?”

“How can I pull your leg if I’m tied up?”

“He’s got a point,” Jess whispered to Reggie.

Greg rolled his eyes and sighed in irritation. “Listen up, fucker, if I find out you’re lying to me-“

“But here’s the thing, shithead,” Ryan interrupted. “I’m not lying. I have been with this crew for nearly ten years, and I know every possible hiding spot that the crew used to hide the money. Not only that but I’ll take you to the drugs we stole, and the Moped we ‘borrowed’ from Lester a while back.”

“Ryan, you fuck!” Gavin burst out in outrage.

“Traitor!” Geoff interjected weakly.

The lead Satan squinted his eyes as he struggled to piece together a motive for the Vagabond have to give up precious information. “Why the sudden change in heart?”

Ryan shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve been with the FAHC for ten very long years, and I’ve had to endure more stupidity than one person should be allowed to endure in their lifetime. It was fun being in a little ragtag team of criminals for maybe two years, I guess, but I’m not called the Vagabond for nothing. It’s time to move on.”

Greg shook his head. “But that doesn’t add up to how you acted before now. You must still have some emotion left for them, or else you wouldn’t have begged me to stop torturing Boss Man.”

“Hey I didn’t graduate from Juilliard with a masters in Theatre Performance so I could half-ass pretending to be one of the guys,” Ryan said plainly. He smiled and shook his head, “Oh man, I put it to good use today and for the past ten years, alright.”

“You motherfucker!” Jack screamed, shocking Greg and all the Satans around her. “I trusted you, we all trusted you. How can you just throw us away like this?”

“Oh boo hoo, princess,” Ryan said apathetically. “I’m sorry that you’re feelings are hurt.”

“You are so not getting a cut of the money,” Geoff threatened.

“God dammit shut the fuck up!” Greg said. He briskly walked back over to Geoff and bludgeoned the back of his head with the hilt of the machete. Boss Man whimpered once more and stared down at his feet.

“Tell me where the money is. Now,” the lead Satan said menacingly.

“First, you let me go,” Ryan countered.

“No, that’s not how we’re doing things. I get the info, I send my men out to the location, and then, once I get a confirmation that the money is there, that’s when you’re free to go.”

“Okay fine,” Ryan said through gritted teeth.

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that Ryan?” Gavin said bitterly.

“So I’ve been told,” he agreed, addressing Vav.

Then he faced Greg again. “Okay so back to the cash. Lester’s money is-“


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future of the FAHC doesn't look too great once new information is discovered.

The room held its breath as Greg treaded arrogantly toward Ryan in anticipation of the information about to be given. Finally, after three long hours of putting up with these insufferable morons, he was going to have the golden ticket and Lester would reward him with treasures beyond his wildest dreams. Finally.

Meanwhile, as Greg advanced forward, Jack’s lip trembled as she bit back unexpected tears. She could feel her stone heart shattering because she felt completely and utterly helpless. Jack had put so much faith in Ryan, the man who taught her how to handle pain, how to bluff through it, and all that was essential for survival. He helped her fine tune her strengths and how to utilize her weaknesses to her advantage. He made her believe in herself.

Now, looking at him with his smug grin and pompous attitude, Jack had never felt so betrayed. He was her friend, their friend; how could he cast them aside like that?

All the while, Ryan’s face never changed when the lead Satan advanced. The tension between them was killing everyone, and no one knew exactly what Ryan would say. The fact that Ryan caved that quickly was unnerving, and Gavin didn’t believe him for one second.

“You better spit it out, Vagabond,” Greg threatened, machete still in hand.

“Okay, okay…the money is around the corner, down an alley, and up your dumb ass,” Ryan responded calmly, smirking like the Cheshire cat.

The FAHC let out an audible sigh of relief. Un-fucking-believable. Ryan had led them on once again, and the room was sent into a spiral of emotions. Jack was either about to start laughing or crying, but Team Nice Dynamite beat her to it. Their gut-twisting laughs echoed off the warehouse walls, and gave the air a false sense of lightness. No matter how weightless Geoff felt, he knew that there was something more sinister to come as a result of Ryan’s action.

The Vagabond joined Michael and Gavin in their breathless laughing fit. “Come on, Greg,” he said in between his breaths for air. “I followed these four into this fucking warehouse for a couple thousand dollars and three kilos of meth, even though I had suspicions about the validity of the mission, and got taken down by you seven morons. Did you really think that I’d sell out my team that quickly? You idiot, you fell for it.”

He threw his head back and chuckled loudly with Michael chiming in as well. Then he glanced over at Jack and saw the seriousness in her features. And as soon as he started laughing, he stopped once he faced Greg again. Ryan’s playful smile disappeared when he glimpsed something snap inside the lead Satan.

The man’s eye began twitching, and his face was frozen in its stoic expression. His complexion was turning an unattractive shade of red as his rage boiled inside him, and he was physically shaking.

Greg straightened his back, turned away from the Vagabond and set his sights on Boss Man. Geoff tried to move away from the advancing figure, but the chair and restraints prevented him from doing so. He fidgeted as Greg threw down the machete and took up another smaller blade.

Jack screamed. “No don’t-“

But it was too late. Greg thrust the blade into Geoff’s chest and twisted it aggressively.

Geoff choked on his breath, and tears started to well up in his eyes. The pain was unlike what he expected it to be; never before had he been stabbed, and he made it a goal in his career as a criminal not to ever have it happen to him. It hurt to breathe, his lungs were struggling to keep his blood from entering, and his heart was picking up speed to pump the blood to parts of his body to survive.

Shocked, Geoff glanced up at the man seething with anger. “Wha-wha-“ he attempted to say.

“You wanna know something, douche wad?” Greg began as he released the knife from his grip, leaving the fatal instrument in Boss Man’s chest. He was level with Geoff now and sneered in his face. “I know virtually every little thing about your crew. I know where Gavin’s first successful robbery took place after failing at least eight times. I know that he hides nude magazines under his bed like a 13 year-old boy. I know where his girlfriend Meg goes to Yoga at 10 every Tuesday morning.

“I know Michael goes to the gym at 8 o’clock each night after dinner with his girl Lindsay. I know where he went to school; where his first job was, and that his mother’s missing person’s case continues to be, and will always remain unsolved.

“Little Miss Jackie over here loves the color lavender, orange tabby cats, and mocha lattes. I know where she met you for the first time 12 years ago, and I know she likes to go to the Los Santos pier every Wednesday night to watch the sunset with her partner, Caiti.”

“Stop it!” Geoff said.

“And as for Ryan,” Greg continued, “well, he first shot a man at the young age of 14 when his mother was killed during a mugging. I know where he first kissed a girl, his favorite guilty pleasure is the Real Housewives of Orange County, and that he hoards Twinkies like a fucking chipmunk. There is nothing that I don’t know.”

“So why are you saying all this now?” Gavin wondered. “I’ll bet you don’t know a thing about Geoff.”

“Gavin!” Ryan shouted. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Oh it’s all to prove a point,” Greg admitted. “And let me tell you, Gavin, Geoff cried at the end of Titanic, he sleeps with a night light, and he beats himself up nearly everyday because the responsibility for all of your lives weighs on him constantly. He can never forgive himself for Ray’s death, since he deliberately killed him after all.”

“That’s a lie!” Michael screamed.

“Oh is it?” Greg asked sarcastically. “Because from my point of view, Geoff looked me straight in the eye as he sent Ray out into the open. I saw it all.”

“You-you-you wha…?” Geoff asked weakly. He glanced past Greg and saw Jack shaking her head in confusion.

“That’s right, I saw the whole event play out,” Greg boasted. Then he sunk into a crouching position in front of the dying boss, and grinned, showing his grimy mouth and yellowing teeth. “This is the best part, you know, what I’m about to tell you? God I’ve been waiting for this moment the entire time we were torturing you and your crew. I saw X-Ray die from behind the trigger.”

“No, no, no!” Geoff wailed. He kicked his feet at the man but it was futile; he was getting weaker and weaker.

“You bastard! You absolute toss pot!” Gavin hollered. “You killed X-Ray! I’ll kill you myself once I get out of this!”

“Motherfucker, I’m coming after you the next chance I get!” Michael added on.

Jack shouted incoherently as she struggled to get to her feet. The two Satans guarding them were distracted by the information that Greg had dealt out, and were unaware of the commotion going on behind them.

“Jack,” Ryan warned sternly. “Don’t you dare.”

“Fuck you, Ryan, I’ll tear him a new one,” she retorted, planting one foot firmly on the ground.

“Jackie,” Geoff commanded feebly, “sit your ass down, I can handle this.” But he knew that he was going to die. Greg removed the knife from his chest and he could feel the blood flow out of him at a rapid pace. He was growing colder and colder with every breath he took.

“You and I both know that you won’t make it to see the end of your crew.” Greg said to him. “You might as well tell me where you hid the money before you’re down for good.”

Geoff shook his head. “Never.”

“Fine then,” Greg shrugged. “Then you’ll suffer through one last torture.” He motioned for his crew to grab a struggling Vav, and rubbed his hands together. “Today is the day, boys, that the Los Santos Satans take down the Fake AH Crew once and for all.”

“Think again, asshat,” a voice rang out from the shadows.


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this mysterious stranger from the shadows the FAHC's savior or devil in disguise?

A shot was fired from the area that the voice had erupted from and lodged a bullet into the head of the nearest Satan. Then a whole clamor of shots was fired into the open area of the warehouse, and in the blink of an eye, three more Satans fell to the ground. The only Satans left unscathed were Jess, Reggie, and Greg.

And like the tiniest light in an unending darkness, Lindsay “Red” Jones slowly advanced forward, gun trained on Greg and his two remaining cohorts.

“Hands in the air, and step away from Boss Man,” she commanded.

Complying with the mysterious redhead, Jess and Reggie threw their hands to the sky and immediately retreated backwards. Greg, however, never moved a muscle.

“I said back off,” Lindsay reiterated, cocking her gun menacingly.

“And I politely disregarded your request, beautiful,” Greg responded unfazed.

“Shithead,” Jeremy growled from behind Greg, shoving the barrel of his gun against the back of the lead Satan’s skull, “she said back off.”

“I heard her,” Greg said with an eerie calm. He slowly placed his hands in the air with his palms up, temporarily compliant.

“Now move,” Jeremy commanded, smacking the gun against Greg’s head once more.

As Greg was led away from the dying man, Lindsay lowered her gun and ran to Gavin’s side to untie his restraints. While she began working, she called out commands to the rest of her teammates.

“Nurse, I need medical to Boss Man. Dragonface, work on the Vagabond. Jesus, TreyCo, do you have the detainees?”

“Yeah, Red,” Trevor shouted while he bound the hands of Jess around a pole. “Jesus?”

“Yep, got’em. And it’s AxialMatt,” Matt responded bitterly as he did the same to Reggie.

“Munchkin?” Lindsay wondered as she moved on to Jack.

“Gonna need two other people to bind the boss. He’s cooperating now, but what do I know, he’ll probably turn on me,” Jeremy said warily.

“On it,” Gavin promised as he and Ryan briskly advanced on Greg.

“Thanks, Lindsay,” Jack said to her rescuer.

“Don’t mention it. I knew something was wrong when you weren’t at the extraction point on time,” Lindsay replied. “Come on, Steffie’s outside with the getaway van.”

“Not just yet,” Mama Bear said, focusing on Geoff being bandaged by Caleb.

“I’m going to more tools to stitch him up,” Caleb told Jack as he unraveled gauze to put on the wound. “For now I can only put this bandage on, but Jack, he’s losing blood far too quickly for comfort. We need to get him out of here.”

“Kerry,” Ryan called to Dragonface as he manhandled Greg roughly, shoving him to his knees, “get me a chair and zip ties.”

Kerry rummaged around in his bag and grasped a bundle of white plastic strips. “Zip ties,” he said, tossing the bundle to Ryan.

“Got the chair,” Jeremy put in, forcing Greg to sit down in another rickety chair. Once he was in, Vav took to binding his legs to the legs of the chair, and the Vagabond took care of his arms.

“What are you gonna do with me?” Greg asked spitefully.

“We’ll leave that to Boss Man,” Vav said.

“Hell no,” Michael retorted. “Let’s roast this fucker. Gimme the jumper cables: this guy is toast.”

“You’re gonna regret it,” Greg warned.

“Regret what you loser?” Jack taunted. “The only thing I’m regretting right now is that I’m talking instead of flaying you.”

“Jackie,” a stern but weak voice spoke from behind the group.

Geoff stood with Caleb by his side for support. He was hunched over with a look of pain etched in his features as he held himself together with a bandage wrapped tightly around his chest. Together, they hobbled into the center of the group that had formed around Greg.

“Boss?” Matt wondered as he flanked Geoff’s other side. “What’s the plan?”

“What are you gonna do with me?” Greg asked again, this time his defiant voice was a little lower, almost as if he was scared of now being at the other end of the torture.

“Geoff, do you want my gun?” Trevor asked, his pistol in his outstretched hand.

But Boss Man shook his head and waved away Trevor’s gun. “No. I can’t kill him. There’s been too much death today. Let’s go home.”

His crew was speechless. “Are you serious right now?” Michael asked incredulously. “Even after what he did to us, what he did to Ray? You’re just gonna leave him unscathed?”

“You heard me,” Geoff retorted. “Let’s go home. Now.”

After he said this, he made a motion to signal Caleb that he wanted to turn around and leave. Then his crew reluctantly followed suit in turning their back on the helpless leader.

“You coward!” Greg shouted after them. “Once I get free from this chair, I’m going to Lester, and we will hunt you down and kill you!”

“Pfft, let him try,” Jack muttered as she motioned for Matt to let go of Geoff so she could take his place to support the man who saved her from herself 12 years ago.

“I’m sorry for leading you into this mess, Jackie,” Geoff whispered to her.

“It’s not your fault,” she responded, relishing in the sweet name that she allowed him to call her. “You weren’t the only one Lester fooled.”

“You’re not safe!” Greg called after them. “You’ll never be safe so long as-“

BAM. Suddenly, a gunshot as loud as a rocket rang through the warehouse, interrupting the threat, and permanently ended the man making it.

The FAHC spun on their heels toward the source of the sound and saw a pistol pointed in Greg’s direction.

“Holy shit,” Jess whispered to Reggie.

“I know,” Reggie replied, awestruck.

Ryan’s hand never trembled when he fired the shot, and as a result was dead on when he hit his target right between his eyes.

“Ryan?” Geoff asked warily.

Ryan tore his eyes away from the limp body of the lead Satan and faced Geoff. His trademark face paint had long streaks running down his cheek from sweat and tears from laughing so hard. His little bits of skin that were left uncovered made him look dirty, dangerous, and just a little bit insane. But that’s not all it did. It made him look raw, vulnerable, and broken, especially since Geoff saw tears well up in Ryan’s blue eyes.

“Oh, Ryan,” Geoff said again this time with empathy.

The Vagabond took a deep breath and closed his eyes calmly. “If you weren’t going to do it,” he said with a tremor in his voice, “then I was. And I did. The fucker deserved it.”

“Yeah, but now Lester’s gonna get us even harder now. He’s got another reason to be vengeful,” Gavin exclaimed.

“He already got us, Gav,” Ryan said, walking toward them. “Honestly, do you really think that Lester gave two shits about that guy? He probably figured we’d eliminate another nuisance that was under his skin. He knew we would win eventually, didn’t he?”

He glanced around at his crewmembers with an expectant gaze, daring someone to answer his question. Since no one was going to, he continued on with his train of thought. “Besides I didn’t kill him to get to Lester.”

Not long after moving past them, the Vagabond realized that the crew wasn’t following him. He looked to them quizzically and saw that they were all still in shock.

“What? Are we just going to stand here and let Geoff bleed to death or are we going to go home?” he asked.

“Who’d you do it for then?” Jeremy wondered.

“What?”

“Why’d you kill Greg?” Michael reworded.

Ryan took a few steps toward his team with his hands tucked into his jean pockets and cast his gaze down at his shoes like a guilty child when being asked why they put gum in their sister’s hair.

“For Ray,” Ryan sighed.

There was an inaudible ‘aw’ that went through the group. Their faces all formed smiles and their hearts swelled with happiness and relief.

But Ryan wasn’t having it. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up and let’s get the fuck out of here. I swear I show one emotion and suddenly it’s like the end of a cheesy movie where the grouch learns to love again. Now you’re all going to applaud me and hand me a gold star for a job well done.”

He turned away from their smile-turned-smirks and continued to make his way to the exit.

“Has anyone seen my fucking mask? Where the hell did they put it? Where’s Reggie? Where’s that motherfucker? I bet he has it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lindsay said. “Ryan, your humanity is showing.”

“Let’s go home guys,” Geoff said faintly. Then he and his supports started hobbling forward after the Vagabond. But then he remembered something.

“Hold on guys, hold on,” he told Jack and Caleb. He released himself from their grasp and continued forward on his own to Ryan.

“Ryan, Ryan, wait,” he called.

Ryan spun around and caught Geoff before he collapsed on his knees. He looked up at the crew that had religiously followed him to where he fell. Then he focused his attention back to the injured man in his arms. “Yeah Geoff?”

“You know, you really scared me when you gave in to Greg-“

Ryan chuckled uneasily. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that…”

Geoff continued. “But you know what? How awkward would that have been that you were right?”

Ryan shook his head. “What?” he asked in confusion.

Gavin balked. “He was right? He figured out where the money was?”

“There’s a reason why you guys don’t come with me to hide money,” Geoff responded, “and Ryan was a prime example. But yeah he guessed correctly. Seriously, how terribly awkward and embarrassing would that have been that the money was in the alley next to this warehouse the entire time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I had a great time writing this story, and I hope you had an even better time reading it. I want to thank Lux_et_umbra for the headcanon that this story was based off of, and the Achievement Hunter crew for making the Painstation video for another form of inspiration for both me and Lux.   
> Thanks again for reading!  
> allons_y_alyssa


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